


A Boy Like That

by everything_else



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Gangs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence, it's kind of a west side story au, which is an updated Romeo and Juliet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2020-10-26 00:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20733080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everything_else/pseuds/everything_else
Summary: “You should be careful hanging around here on your own. This is Yakuza territory.”“Fuck you.” Isak spat.Even frowned, at once annoyed and amused. “Anger issues, have we?”“Got them from my dad.”Even almost smiled at that, but he didn’t. If there was ever any doubt as to whether he was going to call Elias right now, that settled it. “You’re cute. You need to get out of here.”Isak just looked at him. He had lost some of that rabbit fright, and he just stood now, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Even wanted to see what would happen if he moved closer, maybe took the cigarette that was tucked under the curls above the boys ear, just brushing them. Isak flinched, and Even drew back guiltily. He lit the cigarette from the lighter in his pocket, and it took a few flicks to spark the flame. Isak still didn’t move, he just watched, like he was waiting for something. He wouldn’t last long with instincts like that.Even sucked in, and blew out some smoke in the blonde boy’s direction. He hoped he would go now.“See you around Riot boy.”// Romeo and Juliet in 1950s gang ridden New York.





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is very different to anything I've written before, and I'm a little nervous about it, but if it's your cup of tea I really hope you enjoy it. It's inspired a lot by West Side Story, which is an update of Romeo and Juliet in the context of New York gangs. This is going to be pretty different so don't worry if you haven't seen it (although also do bc it's amazing).  
Scroll down for warnings!!

Even heard a whistle first, two notes: the devil’s interval. Yousef had warned him that the store was one of the Riot Boy’s preferred places for reprisals. It didn’t shut until late in the summer, in case someone still needed a bottle or a packet of cigarettes to get them through the night.

There were no bars nearby. The other shops had closed, signs switched off and metal shutters locked to the ground. There were sirens in the distance.

Niko came in first. He sauntered like a warlord, hair slicked back, sleeves rolled up. William followed, a blonde boy he didn’t recognise, and then Chris, with a bat over his shoulder. He let it swing against the glass door, and the bell was cut off by a violent crack.

“Evening Even” said Niko. “How’s business?”

As if in answer, William swept the liquor shelf onto the floor with a diabolical crash.

Even went to whistle, but the blonde boy grabbed his wrist and pushed it harshly back. “I wouldn’t start a fight if I were you”. He stepped back to lift himself up onto counter. He looked younger than the others, skinny, but with strong shoulders and a sharp jaw. Pretty, honestly.

Even leaned back to show some compliance. He didn’t fancy catching a fist or a swing from Chris’ bat. “Can I ask what this is for?”

“You hurt Jonas.” said the boy, casual, though something in his expression betrayed him. Anger was something at least, some of these boys just did it for the hell of it. Even as he thought that, Niko brought down the first set of shelves.

“I heard he couldn’t pay for his weed.” said Even, still looking at the blonde boy. “But that wasn’t me.”

“You’re Yakuza”

“Not anymore”

Another crash. Fuck. Where was Elias when you needed him?

The boy considered him for a moment. His eyes were green, and they reflected the pale light of the store a little brighter. “You whistle, they’re here. We both know that.”

Even conceded with a nod. “And you’re gonna stop me? You look sixteen.”

The boy glowered. “I’m seventeen.”

“I haven’t seen you before.”

A muscle slid in his jaw, anger and something else he was struggling to keep subdued. Maybe he wasn’t expecting Even to see how new he was to this. He looked back at Chris, who cocked his head towards the door.

“Let’s go, Isak”

The boy, Isak, dropped down from the counter and followed him, with a quick glance at Even. His steps were loud on the wet floor, and a few bits of glass broke under his sneakers.

It was still once they'd left, like the stillness following an earthquake. Not one shelf was standing, and cans and jars and bottles lay on the floor where they had smashed like ornaments. The magazines had slipped from their piles and the glossy pages turned dark in the liquid. It seemed to have spread everywhere, reflecting back the cold white lights on the ceiling. 

Even was fine. He wasn’t hurt. That was probably an oversight of the new kid, Isak. He felt a little bit sick at his obedience, the way he held himself like a soldier, everything about him that screamed new recruit. And yet he was smart. The key to the shop and the cash register were missing from their place under the counter.

Outside, the air was close. It was cool though, for the middle of summer. Even walked quickly. The streets were lonely; deserted. He didn’t like being out on his own at this time, with buildings stood pitch black in front of the dark blue sky. He avoided main routes, where there might be police on watch. It was only a few minutes to his block.

His building looked like every other apartment building in New York, or at least the ones that rented shitty rooms to migrant families and teenagers just out of care. It was only really recognisable by the fragile red exoskeleton of metal stairs and platforms, the fire escapes, that crisscrossed in front of the brickwork.

"There he is." Elias had the awning window open above his head where he was sprawled across the couch, feet resting on Yousef’s lap, who tolerated the invasion. The coffee table was littered with beer cans, and it smelled like weed and chebakia.

“Hello, traitor” said Adam.

Even couldn’t quite tell if he was serious, so he pretended he wasn't. “I got a job, I didn’t join fucking Riot Club.”

“You’d be dead if you did.” said Elias.

Even just raised an eyebrow at Yousef, who thankfully looked similarly amused by Elias’ dramatics. He looked tired, still in his factory overalls. Even flopped down in a motheaten armchair and took the joint from Elias. He needed weed to relax now, and he looked forwards to the high every day. It dulled his thoughts a little, made them less heavy.

“Can I have some?” he asked, gesturing to the darkened pot on the stove.

“Make your own food” said Elias. “This isn’t Braghill. When do you get paid?”

“Not for a while. The Magnussons raided the shop.”

Yousef sat up, a frown creasing his brow. “For real?” Fucking hell.”

“Are you hurt?” asked Elias.

“No. They said it was something about some kid called Jonas.”

“Ask Mikael” said Elias. He reached forwards to take back the joint. A thread of smoke trailed from it, and drifted up in front of the curling paisley wallpaper. It gathered on the ceiling, but it didn’t matter. The fire alarms here were just for show.

“They’re getting bolder. I don’t like it.” said Yousef.

Adam nodded. “There have to be consequences. Like Braghill. We let them get away with this, it’ll only get worse. We need respect.”

“We won’t get it.” said Yousef.

“Then we kill them.”

Elias caught Evens eye. He gestured to the stove. “Eat”

Even was waiting outside the apartment. It was Saturday, the one day he got off from the store. He’d been working all week, though his pay check would mostly be going towards repairs and replacing stock for now. There wasn’t much he could do about that. Police weren’t friends around here. The sun was muffled behind thick clouds, but the air was warm, even in the shade. A few people looked at him nervously as they passed, and he put out his cigarette.

Elias was late, of course, coming back from God-knows-where. Maybe he’d met with Yakuza on the East side. He’d always been protective, fiercely so, but it was different now. Protection didn’t mean beating someone up who looked too long at them in the yard, it meant stealing, selling drugs, paying rent and bringing a knife to the basketball courts in case there was trouble from another gang. Even tried not to think about it more than he had to. It was how they survived. Elias got out clean from most of his fights, at least, and Even couldn’t imagine it any other way. He was only older by a few months, but he’d been at Braghill a year before Even arrived, eight years old, which counted for a lifetime. Still, if things kept going the way they were going, Elias couldn’t always come out looking so pretty.

Someone was coming, wearing a dark red shirt, striking against the grey walls and slabs of paving. It wasn’t Elias, he could tell by the sandy yellow hair and the way he stopped when he saw Even. The boy wavered for a moment, unsure, and then bolted.

This was supposed to be safe ground, but Riot boys rarely respected those rules. Here was where they did a lot of their deals, or tried.

Even caught him at the end of a cul-de-sac. The boy stopped ahead and tried to circle back, dodge, but Even caught his shirt and pushed him back against the brickwork. He could see that Isak was about to throw a punch, and pinned his arm roughly to his side. The boy's collar was open, one sleeve falling down. He was breathing fast.

“You should be careful hanging around here on your own. This is Yakuza territory.”

“Fuck you.” Isak spat.

Even frowned, at once annoyed and amused. “Anger issues, have we?”

“Got them from my dad.”

Even almost smiled at that, but he didn’t. If there was ever any doubt as to whether he was going to call Elias right now, that settled it. “You’re cute. You need to get out of here.”

Isak just looked at him. He had lost some of that rabbit fright, and he just stood now, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Even wanted to see what would happen if he moved closer, maybe took the cigarette that was tucked under the curls above the boys ear, just brushing them. Isak flinched, and Even drew back guiltily. He lit the cigarette from the lighter in his pocket, and it took a few flicks to spark the flame. Isak still didn’t move, he just watched, like he was waiting for something. He wouldn’t last long with instincts like that. 

Even sucked in, and blew out some smoke in the blonde boy’s direction. He hoped he would go now.

“See you around Riot boy.”

He ended up meeting Elias by the courts, which was where most of the boys were anyway, playing and drinking beer and stretching out on the warm concrete. Elias and he sat by the edge, a little way from Mikael, Adam and Mutta.

“You know there’s a new kid in Riot Club?”

Elias put down his can with a nod. “Some kid from a broken home they’re getting to do their drug runs for them. Mutta says he recognises him.”

“He seems like he’s Chris’ charge.”

“I’d say the other one. Jonas.”

“It’s Chris. He was the one giving orders when they came by the store.”

Elias nodded again, elbows on his knees. “By the way, you paying for that out of your wage?”

Even didn’t answer. The wire boundary they were leaning on bit into his back.

“I thought so. Why didn’t you call us Even? We’d have had them cleared out in minutes.” He was always optimistic.

“You wouldn’t even have heard.”

Elias turned away before he spoke, rubbing his shaven head in a tick Even knew well. Frustration kept his voice taught. “Don’t give me that shit. We had the window open. Of course we would have heard.”

A shout went up as Sana scored a shot, but neither of the boys joined in.

“You’re making us vulnerable, Even. What if they’d decided to beat you, huh? We’re there for each other. That’s why this works. If you’re not going to let us protect you, and protect the store, how can we be sure that you’re going to be there when we need you to be the one protecting us?”

Even focused on a little piece of broken glass glinting on the tarmac. “I didn’t want trouble.”

“Well tough. We’ve got it. All of us. And we don’t get a choice.” Elias thought for a second, and he seemed to compose himself. “Do you think we should just lie down and take everything those assholes give us? Huh? Not protect ourselves? Or look out for each other? Or give them something back every once in a while? Jesus Christ, I thought you knew better than that.”

“I do, Elias.”

“Well good, because we’re doing a job tonight. It might help you pay your foster mum.” He leaned forwards, voice lowered. “There have been boys watching the house for a while, and they’re away every weekend. We can break in between four and five without too much worry.”

Even shook his head. “There’s cops everywhere man.”

“So we need a driver. We’ll take Adams car, but Adam’s more useful inside, and he’s not as quick as you.”

Even played with the tab on his beer. He needed money, and more importantly, he needed them.

“You’re in?” Even nodded, and Elias grinned. “I’m just looking out for you brother. You know that right?”

“I know”

“Without me you’d still be getting all your food taken at the dinner table.”

Even took another drink, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

It was late by the time they made their way back, trailing down the street like dogs. Adam was passing around a bottle of whiskey he’d extorted from a bar somewhere on route. The air was humid, heavy, like the hours before a storm.

“Bright and early boys” said Elias.

“One more drink” said Mikael. “We'll go up to the roof.”

Even excused himself. Recently, after he'd been with them a while, he started to feel like he was lying. Nothing was more exhausting.

In his room, Even took a cigarette out of his silver case and lit it. His bed was made, an old duvet cover with faded flowers that once belonged to his foster mum. He lay down and blew smoke up towards the empty ceiling. Silence covered him.

He was so used to being alone. He needed it, it was his bunker, even if it echoed more than he'd like.

He needed money. He needed to pay his foster mum for everything he took when he lost his mind, and he needed to see her again, and say sorry, and please don’t cut me off. At least let me see the other kids. He was only there for a few months, but it was the closest to home he’d ever got. Safe, unconditional.

He felt a bit sick. The smoke in his throat didn’t mix well with whiskey, and it hung in the air.

He had another family now, and no one could break them; not the system, not even his own broken brain. Anyone who tried would probably end up in a gutter somewhere. He belonged to a gang, governed by their rules and their routines and their grievances. He was safe with them, they all were, but he could scream at the top of his lungs and not a thing would change. He would still be Yakuza, first and foremost, no way out.

Well, there was one. He wasn’t thinking about that though. He’d fought for too long to die now.

He opened the window to let some of the smoke out. 

He could have been dreaming when he thought he heard someone outside his window. The boys wouldn't have come down from the roof by the fire escape; if there was someone there, they must have come up.

There was a knife in his bedside draw, but he didn’t go for it yet. He was old enough now to know that the sight of a blade didn’t always subdue a situation.

“What are you doing?”

The boy dropped down from the sill, and stumbled. He leaned a hand on the frame. “You owe me a cigarette.” Isak looked shaken, but not hurt. There was still a possibility Even was dreaming. He held out a cigarette.

“What happened?”’

Isak picked up a lighter from the dresser and cupped his hand around the cigarette end. The flame was too small for Even to properly see his face, though he was only standing a few paces away.

“Was it one of ours?”

“Why do you care?” He got it lit, and blew out a stream of smoke. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Do you need somewhere to stay?”

Isak looked at him, and even though he couldn’t see it, he remembered the shade of green. “You’re not going to call them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, I’m not Yakuza.”

Isak tapped a bit of ash into the glass Even kept there. “That’s bullshit. You were at Braghill, you’re Yakuza. You don’t do it because you want something from me.”

Even frowned. “No. That’s not why.”

“You do though.” Isak stepped towards him, calm but for the slight waiver in his gait. Even caught him with firm hands on his hips. He wasn’t thinking about it, but Isak was standing between his legs now, leaning lightly on his shoulders. He was warm, it must have been radiating off him. It was so long since Even had even been this close to a boy. The room was quiet except for a few distant sirens.

After a moment, Isak put out his cigarette, and he trailed his hands down Even’s arms as he got to his knees.

“What are you doing?” 

“I don’t like debts.”

It hit Even a little too late, like a hard right hook, just what he was here for. "Wait". Instinctively, he caught Isak's wrist, thin enough that he could probably wrap his hand right around it. “I don’t need repaying. I don’t want this if that’s the reason why.” 

Isak slipped out of his hold and unbuckled his belt in one motion, and Even had never understood the phrase playing with fire until now. “Relax Romeo. I just want to know how you taste.”

A moment later, Even had to hold onto the covers for some kind of purchase, something so he didn’t bury his hands in those gorgeous blonde curls. Fuck. He was breathing through his nose, but he wasn’t confident he didn’t let a few sounds or curse words slip.

After, Isak tried to retreat, but Even couldn't let him. His cheeks were dark and his eyelashes damp, and Even wanted to brush his fingers against them to dry them a little. Instead he pulled Isak up and turned him around, back pressed against his chest so he could feel his heart pumping hot blood through his body. He wrapped a hand around him, and Isak tried to curl inwards, but in seconds he yielded, silent, panting against Even’s neck while his stroked him to completion.

Even was sick with nerves. It was only half three, and his eyes felt bruised and his stomach hollow. He’d had maybe one hour of sleep. A bracelet hung from the mirror, with words engraved in Arabic that he didn’t understand. Its shadow fell long on the dash. He turned onto the road Elias indicated, headlights scanning the tarmac.

“If you turn the booth light on, we know there’s something wrong.”

There was a gun in the glovebox, just in case.

Even didn’t think the others had even slept, but they kept quiet in the back seats, gripped by a dreadful thrill. It was the most addictive drug. 

The houses were grand and detached, dark and quiet, all down the street. The boys got out of the car without a word. Their target stood alone, and in moments they had disappeared among the trees that lined the drive. Their tread on the gravel got more and more faint.

There was a loud noise as the front window gave in, but after that nothing.

This wasn’t worth the risk, Elias had to know that. And yet at the same time, Even wasn't untouched by the thrill. It was a little like the feeling he’d had earlier, of having the enemy pressed against his chest, warm and vulnerable and human, moving and sighing in his arms. He could still feel it. 

Even tapped his fingers against the brown leather seat. The car was a fancy one, probably stolen, though well battered by now. It was silent with the engine and the lights off; lonely. He wanted to smoke.

There was a car coming, and it was too late to whistle. Even flicked on the booth light when the police saw him and slowed. The best he could hope was that they’d move on, and the boys would have the sense to lay low. He couldn’t leave them now.

“Get out of the car.”

Even opened the door, and stood, though his legs felt unsteady beneath him. He didn’t get a chance to see the men’s faces before he was thrown against the hood by one, and the air forced from his lungs. Making trouble might at least have given the boys more of a chance to notice them, but Even’s arms were wrenched behind him now, and cool handcuffs clicked into place.

“Fuck. I haven’t done anything.”

He was hauled up and punched in the stomach.

They didn’t see Elias and the boys, the idiots. They recognised him for sure, but there was nothing they could charge him with. They weren’t allowed to keep him more the 48 hours without a warrant, but that didn't mean they wouldn't.

The jail house stank, and Even walked with his head down. People yelled at him as he passed, but he didn’t recognise any of the voices. His cell had a cruel stone floor and wide metal bars all around, though thankfully the two beside him were empty. He stood inside, and the guard slammed the door shut.

The lights buzzed like fly killers. It was freezing, it always was here, whatever the air temperature outside. There was something about these stone walls that blocked out the seasons as well as night and day. The last time he was in jail, Jane, his foster mum, had to bail him out, though she said it was the last thing she’d ever do for him. Sorry didn’t account for 200 dollars or a degenerate son. He wondered if her other kids knew what had happened to him.

He tried to forget it all and sleep.

He was woken by a guard marching down the walkway with a boy in front of him, golden head bowed. He pushed Isak into the next cell, and locked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sooo warnings are basically just period typical gang violence and threat of violence. Also references to bullying in state care, and jail time. Let me know if I need to tag anything else. Next chapter will be worse than this one ngl, SPOILERS!! ((((there will probably be some major character death)))
> 
> Soo yeah if you finished it, let me know. I know this is a bit different, but comments good or bad are always amazing!! Thank you. <3<3


	2. Act 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle in folks. this gets a bit dark, read notes at the end if you need details. <3

“You okay?”

Isak didn’t answer for a minute. He looked small, slumped in the corner of that narrow cell. “Yeah. I just need a cigarette.”

He looked scared. It was dangerous to look scared around here.

Even tried to smile. “Well last time you said that you meant something else, and I don’t think we can do that through the bars”

“Fuck you." Isak's face was averted, but his voice was stronger. He smeared a bit of blood from his nose onto the back of his hand. "If anyone finds out we’re both dead. So I guess I’m counting you like being alive.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Even didn’t thought much about the implications of his words, he just wanted Isak to look at him. It was like being able to hold him still, just for a moment. Isak looked away.

“What happened? Are you going to get out?" Isak didn't answer. "Will your parents pay bail?”

He looked like he smiled, but it was hard to tell with his head lowered like that. “They can’t. Anyway, my dad would sooner slit his wrists than spend a cent getting me out of here. And my mum did.”

Even tried not to let the impact of that show. "I'm sorry."

Isak shrugged, and Even's heart sunk a little bit lower. “I would too if I was married to a cunt like him. And she was religious so if she didn’t get to heaven then we’re all fucked.”

How old had he been? He'd probably been getting paid by Riot Club ever since. They liked to go for younger kids who didn't have anyone looking out for them; kids who needed the money and didn't know better.

“I don’t remember either of my parents.” said Even.

"My mum made me recite a chapter of the Bible before I could eat."

The lights and the other prisoners were further down the corridor, but it was still loud. Someone was bellowing, and there was the clang of a cell door slamming. It was stupid maybe, but Even was glad not to be alone.

Isak was silent as time passed; his head on his arms, folded on his knees in front of him; a fragile kind of barrier. He was shaking, Even realised.

“Come here” Even said quietly. He couldn't watch him shiver. He'd shivered like that.

Isak lifted his head. Someone was still shouting, repeating something in a foreign language. “I don’t know your name.” he said.

“Even. Come here.”

Isak did, with a reluctance that came from suspicion; he crossed his legs in front of the black bars, wide enough to fit an arm through. He was still shaking, and Even wrapped a gentle hand above his wrist. He couldn't help it.

“I’ve had bad shit happen in places like this” said Isak. He didn't pull away, but he kept his eyes on the floor. He was different like this, with less space between them. He'd been different as well, earlier, when Even had him stood by the bed with hands firm on his waist.

“I figured.” Even stroked his thumb back and forth on the skin of Isak's arm. It was chilled. 

"Why are you here?"

"I sat in a car." said Even. "There was a robbery going on as well, but they don't know that."

That got half a smile out of Isak. "On our watch?" Even nodded. "Shit."

Isak relaxed by increments. His shoulders sloped and it was clear, now, how tired he was. Even ached to pull him closer, even with the bars between them.

“Hey” Even shook his arm gently. “Lie down?”

Isak did, slowly, cushioning his head on his arm. Even did the same.

Strange shapes formed and disintegrated in the frail artificial light.

“Do you live at home?"

“No." Isak sounded half asleep. "Riot Club own a bar, I live above there.”

“Why not at home?”

“My dad has anger issues. I told you.”

Even kept up a steady rhythm of his thumb against Isak’s knuckles. He needed to keep him talking, keep some of that fear at bay. “Did you have a favourite chapter? Of the Bible?”

A light went off further down in the hall. Whoever it was had stopped shouting. “Maybe The Book of Job.”

“Tell me.” said Even. The floor was cold, and the prison felt closer now. Isak's hand was warm in his.

Isak let out an amused breath. “You want me to recite the Bible?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, I can only remember a bit: ‘I know that my redeemer lives. And that in the end he will stand on the earth'.” It was difficult to hear him over the empty noise that echoed around and around the jail. It was so unlikely that these words should be coming from his mouth, absorbed by these walls. “And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God. I myself will see him with my own eyes. I and not another.”

Even didn’t want to close his eyes while Isak was awake. “I think we’re going to need you to write that one down.” he murmured. He thought maybe Isak smiled.

“I always thought it was about wanting redemption through something other than God, but I don’t think that’s right.”

Redemption felt very far away right now, even the word was unfamiliar, distant. Isak was breathing quietly. Even wished he would say something else, but he didn’t.

Sleep was a warm embrace, and Even was too weak to resist.

He didn’t know where he was when he woke. The walls looked grimy and the light was a sickly yellow.

There was a guard outside the cell, talking to Isak. He asked if he was the Riot Boy, and told him to come, now. Quickly. No questions.

Isak went obediently. He didn’t look at Even.

Time was hell, or at least in here it was. The fear was harder to ignore now that Even was alone. It ran cold under every one of his thoughts.

He thought about his mum, and all the things she might say if she knew. He thought about his foster mum, the look on her face when she walked in and told him to get out and never come back. He thought about Mikael, who had never looked at him the same again. Everything he’d repressed for so long had been ripped out of him that afternoon by a decision he didn’t even make. Or he did, but he made it when his mind was ablaze and he thought he could change the colour of the sky.

He thought about where Isak was. Had they let him go? Please, God, say they'd let him go.

“Elias.” Mikael nodded towards the door.

They were standing in the kitchen, mid-afternoon. Paint was chipping off the walls and a pan of water was boiling for coffee on the stove. Elias turned, and Even saw the moment the weight lifted. “Fucking hell. Thank God.”

He hugged him, and Even felt eight years old with his arms wrapped around his shoulders. He hadn't realised how long it had been since he was hugged. Mikael just stood with his hands tapping the edge of the counter, but he smiled when he saw Even looking. “We were worried”.

Sana frowned critically when she saw him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

Adam called him a dumbass.

Riot Club had killed someone on the East Side since he’d been gone, an older member of Yakuza. Even had met him once and he had seemed like kind of a cunt, but Elias knew him from years ago.

They didn’t know if the Magnussons were involved, but Even was scared. He was scared for Elias, who was still trying to do deals on their territory, and often came back bloody. He was scared for Yousef, when he did shifts at the store. He was scared for Mikael, who was too quick to get out his knife when he felt threatened. They were all like animals with their backs to a wall.

He was scared for Isak.

There was a dance at the youth centre every summer, with free entry and a cheap bar. Girls too. They played rock and roll, swing and jazz on a pretty clean system, and people came from all over.

“Riot Club with be there.”

Elias struggled with his tie, and Even watched from where he was sat on his bed. They could hear music from the record player in the kitchen, where the other boys were getting ready.

“Only the Western side.”

“Niko will be there” said Even.

“Yeah. So will Sonja.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Elias took a swallow of his drink and put it down on the dark-wood draws with a bump. “I know what you’re saying Even. And I’m saying you need to go fuck Sonja and relieve some stress.”

Even ignored him. “If we go, they’ll take that as an aggression.”

“If they want a fight they can have a fight, we have as much right to be there as they do. Will you help with my tie?”

Even stood up to join him in front of the mirror. He flattened the black tie around his neck and crossed the ends over his chest. His shirt was green.

A few insects came in through the open window, and they collected on the ceiling around the bare light-bulb.

“Are you ever going to stop?” asked Even. “Maybe when someone else dies?”

“Are you ever going to leave?" Elias’ eyes were hard. "Because you can, you’re not in danger. You got out of jail without a cut. Do you know what would have happened it that was me? Or Mutta? Or Mikael?” Even fed the end through the small loop of fabric and tightened it. He’d learned from his foster mum. He knew how Elias hated needing him to do this. “You can go. Forget us. Get a shitty apartment somewhere and a job based on nothing but your face and your last name. Just don’t come back, yeah?”

Even finished with the tie. He didn’t look at Elias, his words were enough. “Okay, I’m done.”

Even was drinking. He shouldn’t have been, he needed to be on alert, but Sonja kept talking about nothing. She was wearing pearl earrings that shook every time she laughed.

Sana kept looking over. Normally she’d be amused by this, but she wasn’t now. Yousef was with her, and Even couldn’t remember when he'd stopped being surprised by how they looked at each other, talked so only the other could hear. He was happy for them, of course he was. Yousef was getting out of gang business, he had jobs at the store and the factory. The others hated him for it of course, but they’d let him go. There wasn’t much Elias wouldn’t do for his younger sister.

Even looked around for a blonde head.

“So, tell me about gang business” said Sonja. Her hair was pinned in bright waves, and her perfume was too sweet. “You doing any more jobs?”

“Not for a while” Even took another drink.

Elias was with Adam and Mutta, hair slicked and blazers hung over their arms like silken flags. There were other Yakuza here as well. Niko and William were on the other side of the room, Chris standing not far off with a girl. They were looking over as well, though more covertly, exchanging words every now and then over their drinks.

It was difficult to see past the dancers. They flooded the foreground with bright coloured shirts and voluminous skirts that jumped and whirled. He almost lost him between them. Isak.

He was okay, and he was talking to a girl. She was small, short dark hair and a cute elfish face. She giggled at Chris when he came up behind and ruffled Isak's his hair. He said something into Isak's ear. When Isak leaned a little closer to the girl, she put her small hands on his face and kissed him.

Sonja was looking somewhere else, at a friend maybe. Even turned back and tipped her chin up before he could think about it. She smiled. She was a good kisser, and Even enjoyed getting a little bit lost in it for maybe the twentieth time they’d done this. It was always a comfort, feeling someone else against him without any violence in it. He bit her lip the way he knew she liked and puller her closer by the waist, where he could feel the thick band of her skirt.

He opened his eyes, just for a moment, and saw Isak watching him from across the floor.

Even was drunk. Definitely drunk. Why was there no one behind the bar?

“You got out.” said Isak. He was a few paces away, just enough distance not to attract attention. They’d been waiting in silence for a few minutes now.

“Yeah. Sucked off one of the security guards.” said Even.

“Really?”

“No. I’m joking.”

Isak lost a bit of tension in his frame, and he rolled his eyes. A smile tugged at his lips. "That's not funny." 

"No, it's not." Even admitted. "Who's the girl?"

Isak had one elbow on the bar, and he was drunk as well, probably more so than Even. A crescent piece of hair fell down onto his forehead. “Why? You jealous Yakuza?”

“No. Just wanting to make sure she’s from the right side of the city." said Even. "Does she know you smash up people’s shops who aren’t?”

Isak rolled his eyes again, though one corner of his mouth crept up. “I didn’t even smash it up. I was supposed to be dealing with you.”

“Right. You were the distraction.”

“Not like that.” If Even didn’t know better, he’d have thought Isak was blushing. 

“Sure.”

Someone said Isak’s name sharply. It was Jonas, the one with the brown curls. Apparently they weren’t far enough apart anymore.

That wasn’t it, though. There were guys gathering outside the doors, and they spilled out onto the pavement in a fractious crowd. Elias was in the middle, his forehead inches from Niko’s.

The air hit Even like a cold wave. The group of boys was moving back and forth, pushing and pulling, and they were talking to each other but never over a distance. Even pushed his way into the centre, where it was quieter, and where Mutta grabbed him. There was a line between the two gangs, held by their leaders.

“A fight. To end this.”

"Monday?” Elias’ jaw was set.

“Monday it is.” smiled Niko. They shook. “Knives?”

“That’s a coward’s move. You afraid to fight with your fists?” Even was out of line, and Niko looked back at some of his boys, amused. Isak was trying to hold Even’s gaze and he shook his head minutely.

Elias cut in before Niko could reply. “Who’s the new kid?” He tipped his chin at Isak.

“None of your concern.” said Jonas.

“We don’t want him there. We have no problem with him.”

“He’ll be there” said Chris. Jonas looked at him. Isak glared at Elias.

Elias raised his eyebrows and turned to Niko. “Who is he, Niko? Some battered kid you thought might feel at home in your organisation?”

Even saw the moment Isak went for him. Chris let him push past, but Even caught him by the shoulders, thumbs pressed into the dips under his collar bones. That temper was going to get him hurt. “Easy, Isak. Easy.”

“Get off him. Why are you touching him? Huh?” Chris shoved him, hard. The ranks were broken now, and it was all Even could do to keep Elias behind him.

“Cool it Schistad. If you’re looking for a rapist maybe look in your own ranks.”

Isak pushed Chris roughly back, standing between them. Clearly his anger had redirected. “Back off, Chris. Fucking save it man.”

William whistled. “Alright, that’s enough. Lets go.”

“See you at the rumble” smiled Niko. Someone spat.

“Watch your back Naesheim.” Chris turned back, and Isak’s frame dropped just a little. He looked back at Even.

The others thought Even was going back with Sonja. He could have, should have, really, at least got in the cab, but he didn’t know if he had enough money for both of them. He walked via the tennis courts, where there were at least patches of light, circles of amber on the tarmac under a row of streetlamps.

Niko was leaning against one, smoking. Even didn’t see him at first, although he was looking. He had his fist wrapped in a white cloth. “I think there was something you wanted to say to me back there” he said.

“Not really.”

Niko took a step forward, and his blonde hair flashed under the spotlight. Even could hear a stone scrape the ground behind him, and maybe he was a coward, but he didn’t want to die tonight. Not by this piece of shit.

He tried not to run the obvious route, there’d be people waiting, but they got him anyway, four of them. They grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back until he felt a shot of pain. He couldn’t stand upright like this, and his head was pounding with the rush of blood. He tried to at least breath steady, at least keep his feet on the floor.

“Go easy guys. Wouldn’t want to mess up that face.” It was Chris’ voice. “And it seems like our Isak is fond.”

Even didn’t know how long they beat him, not long probably. All he knew was that his arms throbbed where they were held behind his back and he could taste hot blood in his mouth. All he could think was how much Elias was going to hate himself for this when it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault Even thought he could call Niko Magnusson a fucking rapist and not get beaten until he couldn’t see.

He thought he was going to be sick if they kept kicking his stomach. He sort of was, but there was only liquid to come up.

“Stop now” said William. “Fucking hell.”

They left not long after that. Even slumped back against the wall in the alley and listened to their retreating footsteps. He spat some of the bile out of his mouth. 

As much as the pain was bad, he’d gotten off lightly. Nothing was broken. They hadn’t even really hit his face. It was like they wanted him to keep it hidden.

The ground was wet, but the air was warm at least. It hurt to breathe. Even kicked away a needle and a broken bottle with his foot. Where was he? Not far from the apartment, he thought. He’d almost made it then.

He didn’t let himself stop on the way back, however much he wanted to. It could have been worse, he told himself with every step. You’re fine, it could have been worse. You're lucky. Maybe they didn’t want to break the terms of the fight. It wouldn’t look good having to maim the enemy ahead of time. The pain was like any other pain; better if you accept it, welcome it even. Bask in it like it's a fire in a grate.

A few stars pierced the smog behind the apartment building and Even kept to the shadows as he crossed towards it. Some of the lower floors still had lights on, but above that it was pitch black; indiscriminate from the sky but for the fire escape, which glistened red in the moonlight.

There was someone stood out on it, about level with Even's room, head resting on his arms.

No one heard Even climb the stairs or open the door to the flat. It closed behind him with a dull click.

Isak was sat on the fire escape now, but he stood when he heard the door, and dropped down from the window.

“You trying to get yourself killed?” he asked. He turned on the lamp by Even’s bed.

“Not at the moment.”

“Don’t say that.”

He stepped forwards and glanced over Even’s body. Even stood still. The light was dim, and it cast faint shadows that feathered into nothing. Isak searched his face for injuries and his features softened a little as he saw that it wasn’t too bad, that he was okay. Even was just tired.

Isak sat him down on the bed and went to get a cloth from the bathroom, soaked in cold water. Even held it to his jaw, though his arm was weak. The window was open, and the air was warm and still. He watched Isak reach down a bottle from the top of his wardrobe.

“Here.” Isak sat on the floor and handed it to Even. He had bandages in his other hand, which he must have found while he was waiting. He took Even’s hand, and Even winced.

“It’s not broken.”

Isak turned it over carefully, watching his reaction. “I think it’s sprained. You’re not much good in a fight are you?”

“There were four of them.”

Isak didn’t say anything to that, but Even wanted to make him smile. “Do you take it back?”

“Maybe.” Isak measured a strip and cut it. The scissors were blunt, so it took him a minute. Even watched.

“Why are you helping me?”

“I wanted to be a doctor. Still do, if I can get the money to study.”

Even could imagine him as a doctor. It made him sad somehow. “Why me though?”

“Because it’s my fault you got hurt. I don’t like debts, remember?”

Even wasn’t going to hear what he wanted. He took another drink from the bottle. “Yeah. I remember.”

Isak concentrated on wrapping, a little more roughly than before. There was a small frown on his forehead.

“Had you ever done that before?”

Isak still didn’t answer. He didn’t look up either.

“Hey.” said Even. “Relax.”

“I’m not gay.”

“No.”

Even had said those words, perhaps enough times to know if they were true. He didn’t of course, not for sure, but Isak didn’t pull away from Even's hand on his cheek, he just looked at him. Even needed to know that he wasn't crazy, he needed to know that Isak was as reckless as he was right now. He leaned in slowly, so slowly, nudging their noses together before he kissed him.

It was a gently curved knife edge. Even kissed him softly, and Isak took it and returned it just as sweetly. There was something imploring in it, even as he pulled away.

“We can’t. One of us is going to end up dead.”

Even forced himself not to follow. He replayed those words in his mind, every intonation, over and over as Isak sat back on his heels and started the bandage again, unravelling it and winding it around and around, tighter this time. It felt like someone was gripping his arm.

“Haven’t you read Romeo and Juliet?”

Isak laughed weakly. “Fucking hell. Is that what you want from me? I thought you just wanted me to blow you.”

Even may have winced. “No. That’s not what I want”.

Isak finished wrapping his arm. He tucked the end of the bandage into a fold and then brought it around, did it twice to be sure. He kissed Even this time, up on his knees, pulling his head down with a hand at the nape of his neck.

Even went easily. It was more pressing this time, and he tilted Isak's face up so he could kiss him deeper, thumbs on his cheeks. No one would ever know but them.

“What do you want then?" Isak asked quietly. His skin glowed in this light. He looked drunk, almost, and so beautiful. "Before one or both of us ends up dead?” 

Even kissed him again. “We’re not going to die.”

“What? Never?” Isak got dimples when he smiled. He sounded almost affectionate, and it did things to Even’s chest.

He kissed his cheek. “No". Then his temple. "Never". Isak melted like wax, soft under a flame.

_The only way to live forever is to die._

It didn't feel real. Time was never something Even thought he had much of, it still wasn’t, in fact he felt like maybe right now they had less than ever. Tonight though, he took his time.

Isak touched him like he didn’t know how, or where he was allowed to touch, but like he wanted to touch all of him. He couldn’t settle. Even kept his hand on his jaw, kissing him with an edge of desperation, but he was careful, so careful, because Isak trusted him.

Pain burned alongside desire. There'd be brutal patches of purple on his body tomorrow where blood vessels bust and bled under his skin. But Isak was gentle, strangely so, and Even couldn't stop himself. One of them might die tomorrow.

Even was dying right now, with Isak’s legs wrapped tight around him, warm and bare. It hurt. His moans were quiet in his ears, his breaths short against his lips, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

Even died.

It was hot. Even kicked off the blankets in the dark, and got a sheet from the cupboard, but by morning that too was only clinging to their ankles. Isak was restless, tossing and turning until the early hours. The window was partially open, and light threaded through, some of it stained blue and red by the glass.

It was like sharing a bed with a small water heater. Isak slept in a loose curl, and every time he sighed or shifted in his sleep, Even’s chest clenched painfully. He wanted to remember every little thing, every freckle on his skin.

It didn’t take long before Isak stirred. His hand twitched on the pillow before he opened his eyes, and he lifted his head to look around the room. 

“Are we safe?”

Even nodded. “The door’s locked.”

That was Isak’s first question, his first thought: Are we safe? Somehow the idea made Even's throat tight.

Isak let his head drop back down, and his eyelids closed for a moment. It didn't take long though, until his eyes fell on Even. They were the colour of a river in the shallows: algae green, clear and sun-lanced.

Even wanted to stroke a hand through his hair, wrap curls around his fingers. He wanted to kiss him again, breathe him in and draw it out as long as he could, as if this moment would last forever as long as neither of them spoke to break it.

Isak sat up, and his back curved as he reached his sweater off the floor. He tugged it over his head. 

“Isak” said Even.

"Yeah?"

"Don't go tomorrow."

Isak let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and something else.

“Please. Look at me.” Isak wouldn’t. He got up and pulled on his jeans. Even watched, fighting every urge to make him stop.

“I didn’t take you for stupid” said Isak. “Niko kills traitors.”

“So then leave New York.” Even couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear Isak getting hurt, or killed, or left to shiver in a jail cell alone. 

“They’re my brothers. They’re all I’ve got.”

“Brothers who’d let you be killed.” said Even.

“And you? Will you go?” Isak turned to him then, accusatory, but still rumpled with sleep. He knew the answer, but he waited for Even to give it anyway, as if to a question in a trial.

Even couldn’t abandon Elias. That boy had saved his life three times by the time they were fifteen. He couldn’t send him to this fight alone. 

“Yes.”

Isak tied his sneakers with his head down, and Even was stupid to think this would go any other way. They both knew where their loyalties lay.

The next night, it rained. It beat against the kitchen window as they all stood around in the dark. None of them could eat.

“We going?” Elias looked at Even, who nodded.

The ground was wet. They met the rest of Yakuza under the highway. They had to climb over wire fencing to get to the place Niko had set, but it was sheltered, and lit red by the break-lights overhead. Cars passed over at an irregular rhythm, and every now and then a lorry reverberated through the stone like thunder.

Even stood alone. He tried to brace himself for whatever was coming. He was Yakuza now, another body on side in case of trouble, only worth as much as he could hold his own in a fight. 

Riot Club arrived late. Their shoes clapped against the ground as they dropped down from the fence at different heights. Isak dropped down behind Jonas, but he didn’t move far from the wire. There must have been twenty of them, though Even didn’t recognise many.

Niko took his cigarette from his mouth and stepped it into the ground. The last boy dropped down behind him. “Your best man against ours.”

Elias nodded. “That’ll be me.”

Mutta said his name, but Elias ignored him. He wasn’t going to let anyone else do this.

Niko smirked. “William?”

William nodded. Niko turned towards him as he passed, and for a moment it was hard to believe they were brothers. Their profiles were the same, their hair similar but for the shade, but their stance was different. William was angled forwards: defensive, stiff, head down. Niko looked like he’d come to see a show. He said something into William’s ear, and pressed an object into his hand.

Chris said something to Isak, who nodded. He looked just like one of them: face set, body tensed.

Even's instincts were going up like flares. 

Elias didn’t turn back. He stood where he was, perfectly still, straight up, shoulders back. He watched William step up and slip the object into his pocket.

There was a moment where they just looked at each other. They could have been reluctant, trapped like dogs surrounded by rabid bet-holders. They circled for a few moments, and cars drummed against the road above.

There was a sick excitement rising in the gangs.

Elias lunged. William blocked, and hit him hard in the jaw.

Even held himself very carefully.

Elias stumbled back, bleeding into his palms. He ran at William, who dodged and sent him sprawling into the wire. William had burst a blood vessel in his eye, and red was starting to bleed over his vision.

Someone on the Riot side wooped.

Elias launched at William, and beat him back, landing punches to his face and stomach. William caught him with a good right hook, and there was a moment of silence as both the boys stepped back and assessed the other, taking stock of their injuries.

It had been a long time since Even had seen Elias fight. There was something shocking about it, even as he knew it was the only reason they had both survived this far into their teens.

He came back first. He ran at William, blocking a swing. He punched him hard enough in the chest to make him double over, and then shoved. William was on the floor, and Elias kicked him in the stomach before going to kneel on his chest.

Even thought about stopping him. He thought about pulling him back and wiping his face and setting them up again. Best of three. But the way the Riot Boys were poised didn’t say this was a best of three.

“Get up William” Niko chided. Elias let him, with a grin. They exchanged a few words, which Even couldn’t hear other than the name Noora. William punched, which Elias only partially managed to block. His ears much have been ringing, head pounding, blood rushing to get to his muscles. He grabbed William and pushed him back against the wire, punching him once, twice, three times in the stomach. It rattled with the force. There was nothing William could do with Elias so close.

“William. Use it.” Niko sounded annoyed.

William took something out of his pocket and passed it between his hands. Even’s stomach dropped.

“Elias!” he shouted. It was a knife. It was a fucking knife. Elias leapt back, and he saw the blade as William flicked it out. For a moment, everything was still, as if suspended by strings.

“We said no weapons you fucking idiots.” Even was seething. He took a step forwards. They expected his best friend to fight this unarmed. They all just stood there.

“We said we’d end this, didn’t we?” said Niko.

Even walked towards William. He didn’t know what would happen now, but anything was better than letting this run to its conclusion. Someone shoved him back. Even tried to dodge but the guy caught him by his shirt and punched him, hard. Mutta yelled.

By the time the guy let go Even had blood pouring from his nose. There was a ringing in his ears that seemed to get further and further away and then closer by the second. Around him, order had ruptured.

He couldn’t see Elias anymore through the mass of bodies. He couldn't see him. Even's eyes blurred. There was something sticky on his hands: blood, his own, thick as honey.

Someone shouted. It didn’t sound like a shout though, it was more like a groan, guttural and terrible, and it cut through everything. Even had never heard a sound like it, and all he could think was No. No.

William was moving, but there was dark blood flooding the ground where he lay.

Elias dropped the knife. He had a gash down his arm, and he was shaking too hard to properly step back.

Already, boys were scrambling back over the wire.

The wound was dripping blood down Elias’ forearm and his fingers. Even was going to wrap something around it, get him out of here, but he couldn’t stop looking at William. His eyes were wide open.

Chris stood up. Even should have seen it, the intent, the speed with which he snatched up the knife. Instead Even watched, and he felt like he’d been stabbed, right between his ribs. It punctured his lungs and spread shock and agony through his brain and his body.

He didn’t register the sirens, or the lights flashing red and blue on the walls with the shadow of fencing, because God, God, Elias wasn’t moving.

He shouldn't have come. He should have stayed in bed with an angel.

Someone dragged him back and hauled him to his feet. “Even." Isak was pale, and he was gripping Even so hard it hurt. "It’s too late. Please. You have to run.”

It was raining as if the heavens were opening.

Even ran. It wasn’t real. He couldn’t breathe but somehow he kept running. His legs were moving, if only to carry him further away from it.

Elias was still under the highway. They had to go back. The rain couldn’t reach him there, and clean the blood like it was from Even right now. It would seep slowly into the concrete and stain red.

Even had to stop by the side of the road to retch.

It wasn’t real, it was too lurid. That was his best friend. That was his best friend since he was eight and had no one else in the world. It was like a scene in a play. It was Romeo and Juliet with Mercutio slain. Soon he’d get up, ready for the next performance. He'd smile and say “Thanks a lot man.

We were great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: ummm mostly just violence, punching and two stabbings. they're not v graphic, but not completely ungraphic either. mention of suicide. pretty major character death, but not Isak or Even. enjoy?
> 
> Please leave me a comment if you got to the end! The story is going to stray further from west side story and particularly r+j next chapter<3<3


	3. Act 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! it's been a while, but this chapter was a lot. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> it gets dark, so check the end description if you think you need TRIGGER WARNINGS.

Even couldn’t cry. But he couldn’t hold a glass still either, so maybe he couldn’t do anything. He hadn’t slept. There was still blood on his shirt, and his room was stiller than it had ever been. There were voices coming from the kitchen, muffled and incoherent, though even when they were raised he couldn’t make out the words. Even barely recognised any of them: Yakuza from the East and West sides redrawing their battle lines.

Elias should have been in the middle of it, sitting with his elbows on the table, introducing Even and telling him their stupid fucking plan with a grin hiding beneath his features.

When they met, in the courtyard at Braghill, he’d had the same grin, while he told Even he’d heard about his fight with an older boy, but didn’t push him on the details. “He’s a dick” he’d said, with authority, “Do you want to join my gang?”. There were only two of them, but they would look out for each other against the older boys, and one day they’d get out of there and run Manhattan. It didn’t matter than Even wasn’t much of a fighter, Elias liked him, trusted him. That was enough.

These boys didn’t even know him. They couldn't now.

It wasn’t real. It was a nightmare, spread out endlessly before him. No way out.

Well, one.

Even opened the window and lit a cigarette. He’d fought too hard to die now: that was a pile of shit. He was living on borrowed time, had been for a long time, and now his best friend was gone.

He felt calmer with the frail morning air against his skin. The sun peaked, blazing, between the buildings; penitent.

He’d stay alive, for now, if only to grieve Elias. He tapped a bit of ash in the gap before the fire escape. The red paint was chipped, revealing rust beneath, wet with rain from last night and shining like gore.

There was a noise from somewhere further down, and the realisation that someone was coming up hit him with force. His eyes went briefly to the chest of draws where his penknife was hidden, wrapped in a blue t-shirt.

It would be Isak. The thought made him burn with something like shame.

The rails out on the fire escape were cold, and lined with raindrops, clinging under them. Tremors ran through intermittently. Even waited for him on the level below his window, where there would be a wall between them and Adam’s room. He put his cigarette out in the damp under his shoe.

Isak stopped short when he saw him, and a moments panic seemed to light on him, and then ascend. He looked small, in a t-shirt that was too big on him, and he regarded Even with a front of impassivity.

“What do you want?” Isak’s composure angered him in a way he didn’t understand. It felt like a denial of something they both knew. “You want to fuck again?”

Isak looked away. “I came to tell you you need to get out. Riot club know you live here.”

“Why do you care?”

For how long? Did Elias know they knew? What would he do if he saw this? Fuck. It didn’t fucking matter.

“I care, okay.”

Isak’s words sent a surge of anger through Even. He cared? It was too fucking late.

“What’s wrong with you fucking riot boys, huh?” Even stepped closer, because he wanted to shout it but someone would hear. He wanted to shake him. “Why do you have to be so violent?”

“I’m sorry” said Isak.

They were only inches apart, and Even lowered his voice. “Did you know about the knife?”

“No, I swear. I would have warned you.” Isak hesitated, but he then dropped his head a little, so that their foreheads touched. Even didn’t move, but he let him, and after a second he leant into it and allowed a kind of relief to envelop him. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Even concentrated on the feeling of his breath against his skin. He was losing his mind. A moment ago he hated this boy. “We’re so fucked, Isak.”

“You can get out.”

Maybe he could, but he didn’t want to. “What about you?”

“Niko will kill anyone who doesn’t help him get revenge. He’s worse with William gone.” Isak rubbed their foreheads together as he turned his head away. The loss of contact felt like something had been broken. “I have to go.” He looked like he'd forgotten where they were for a moment. “But you can’t be here tonight.”

Even heard something from the floor below, like someone had dropped something heavy. He shut his door and made his way down, balanced on the edge of fear.

There was no one in the kitchen.

He knew it was dangerous for Isak to come here, but he always thought he’d been okay, as if those red steps were theirs somehow, and safe.

“What’s going on?”

The bathroom was bright and ugly, crowded with five or six of the older Yakuza guys,. Mikhail was in the corner, by the etched glass window. He avoided Even’s look, Adam and Mutta too. Even pushed past them, until someone took a warning grip of his upper arm.

Two of them had Isak over the full sink with his wrists behind his back and his head forced down over the water, two hands fisted in his hair. His back was arched painfully, and his ribcage heaved.

“What are you doing?” Even tried hard to keep his voice level.

Aksel answered. He was leant on the wall, glossy tiles edged with blackened grout. He had changed his shirt since the rumble, but there was still blood spotting his pale jeans. He was leader of the Yakuza outside Manhattan, and an important ally, but never one Even trusted. He thought he might be capable of some of what he talked about. “Found him on the corner. He’s Riot Club. He’s going to tell us where Niko and the rest are hiding.” Isak spat.

“And what if he doesn’t know?”

“He does. He told us.”

Even could see the boys behind him in the mirror, watching him with carved eyes, stoic. Even doubted any of them had slept since last night, and many of them had bruises of darkening purple and grey. He tried to shrug away from the big guy pressing his thumb into his arm, but he heard someone take a warning step behind him.

Where was Elias when you needed him?

“Just fuck off, yeah? You know him or something?”

“No.” Even didn’t take his eyes off Aksel, broad with piercing blue eyes and dark, slicked-back hair. He leant down to say something to Isak, and at the quiet answer, nodded to the two guys holding him. For a moment Even thought maybe Isak had told them, and it was okay, they’d let him go, but then his head was forced under.

“Stop. He’s just a fucking kid.”

They held him there. Even tried to push down the rage and fear that was rising with every moment. Isak couldn’t breath; he had to be calm. They both relied on it.

“This isn’t worth it.”

Isak started to panic. His fingers clawed against nothing, and he sought the wall with his feet to kick against. The floor squeaked. They held him there for a few more moments before they let him up. When they did, he choked on the water in his lungs, and wretched. His body sagged.

Someone was beating against Even’s chest from the inside. He couldn’t let Isak go under again. “We’ll anger them more with this. If we let him go now, we’ll make him agree not to tell. We can arrange a meeting, set up some kind of peace deal. They’ve lost someone too.”

“He’s right” It was Mutta. Even couldn’t bring himself to even look at him. Was it grief or trauma that made such cowards of his friends? Maybe they’d always been that way.

Aksel shook his head. “Nikolai is a sociopath. If you think he’s not coming for us you’re an idiot. They’ve already killed Elias.”

“I know. I was there.”

“They’ll kill us too if we wait.”

Even grit his teeth. “Elias wouldn’t let you do this.” He only said it as he thought it, and it felt like a wrench in his gut. The other boys knew it was true, but they wouldn't honour it. They didn't have honour, only fear. It begets hate, Sana said once.

Aksel stepped forward and wrapped some of Isak’s hair in his hand. Even had never been a violent person, but something then hot strained inside him. “He’s right. This isn’t worth it. So where are they?”

“Tell him Isak.” said Even.

Aksel shot him a suspicious look. “Isak? That your name?”

Isak held himself rigid, even with his neck bowed, breathing carefully. He nodded.

“You going to tell us Isak? Or you want to go back under?”

Isak jerked as he was pushed closer to the water, and his body curled, like he couldn’t help but shrink from it. Even’s couldn’t wrench himself free of these two fucking guys. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them and even if he could there were five more in the room, but he tried. He was as helpless as he’d been just a few hours ago, and the thought made it hard to breathe.

“Stop. Please. I know where they are.” Because he did, didn’t he? Almost.

Isak went very still. “You don’t.”

“You know?” Aksel asked.

“No” said Isak.

It was too late to think about changing his mind. “It’s above a bar. I don’t know where exactly but there aren’t many big enough on the island. We could find them in an hour, maybe less.”

Because that’s what he told him. He’d trusted him, without even thinking, in the dark between their cells and the cold bars, while Even held his hand and asked him to keep talking.

One of the guys holding Isak spoke. “Less, with what we know.” The other guy let Isak go as well and he leaned heavily on the sink. After a moment, he folded down onto the wet floor, where he looked like he was going to be sick.

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?”

“If they don’t live above a bar here, you can do whatever you want to me. But I know that they do.”

“How?”

Even couldn’t risk lying. “He told me. We were in jail and his cell was beside mine.” Isak looked defeated.

“So you do know him.”

“I thought he would be useful to get information.”

Aksel fixed him with a cool look. “So why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Aksel seemed to find that amusing, but the uneasiness amongst the two halves of Yakuza wasn’t checked until he started giving orders; meet at midnight tonight on the corner, with weapons; put the riot boy on the roof, he can’t warn them before this is over; get sleep, you’ll need it.

Most of them left, and the flat filled with an eerie silence. Mutta went with them, and Adam and Mikael didn’t want to talk to him. Their eyes were rimmed with red. They said they were going tonight, they owed it to Elias. They looked at Even like a traitor, an outsider. They didn’t believe him about how he knew the blonde boy. Mostly, though, they were scared, so scared that Even thought if he slammed a door, they might flinch.

Even grew up hating the Magnussons, because he couldn’t imagine them, the inevitability of the things they did and stood by for, their arrogance and their cruelty, like they were boys playing games at Braghill, not fighting a war like their fathers had done. But Even thought he could imagine them better now. They weren’t so different.

The door opened out onto the middle of the roof. Isak stood up quickly at the sound.

It was late afternoon, and the city lights grew more numerous as the light died in the sky. There was a set of steps further on that led to the lower part of the roof, behind a wire fence.

Isak stepped back when Even came towards him, and he shook his head. “You told them.”

“I’m sorry”

He didn’t let Even get close, with his arms stiff between them. His hair was still damp, and his skin cold, as Even pushed him back behind the door, out of sight. He was shivering.

“I didn’t need you. I was fucking fine.“ He had a cut on the side of his face, and he wouldn’t raise his eyes to meet Even’s.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t-“. Even’s grip may have tightened a little below Isak’s elbows. “They could have killed you, Isak.”

“Jonas is there. You have to let me go and warn them.”

“I will” Even promised. “Yakuza won’t go until midnight. They have time to get out.”

Isak nodded, as if to himself, and he seemed to weaken. He leant his forehead on Even’s shoulder, and the weight was a comfort. “Thank you” he murmured.

“I care about you too.”

Isak laughed, but it hitched somewhere in the middle. “Yeah, no shit.”

Even wrapped his arms around him, and after a moments resistance he accepted it. His breath took a moment to calm against Even’s shoulder, and it fed Even’s shame, that he’d let Yakuza hurt him enough that he’d admit it silently.

“We can get out of here.” Even told him. “Get jobs, maybe a shitty apartment. Smoke to forget how shitty it is.”

Isak let go, and his smile was only slight. “You don’t know me”.

“I know you don’t belong here, though.”

Isak pulled him down with careful hands and pressed their lips together, and something about it made Even’s heart clutch. He kissed back with more warmth, a trace of the desperation he felt right now.

“Come back. Here. Tonight.”

Isak spoke in the space between them. “I will”

Even kissed him again, only for a second. He wished it was enough. He wanted to memorize the feeling of Isak’s fingers in his hair. He had to let him go now, unlock the gate in the wire fence that lead to the fire escape, and suddenly the city seemed endless, rolling towards something forever out of reach.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Sana stood in the middle of the roof, a few feet from the door, looking stark in the early evening light. Her face was hard, though it still held a vestige of shock. The wind felt colder.

“One of them?” she asked.

“You won’t tell?” Disgust surfaced in her expression, and Even felt like the shittiest person alive. “I’m sorry, Sana. I’m so sorry.”

Sana just turned away, and Even saw the shine in her eyes as she did. She took a few deep breaths, and collected herself. She was keeping every bit of her sadness and rage inside, and it broke Even’s heart.

“Sana. Please help me.” Her face was set, but Even was struggling to keep the lump out of his throat. It had been a long time since he'd cried. “They want to attack Riot Club. They know Niko won’t back down.”

Sana glared at him. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know. But they won’t listen to anyone, they’d only agree to peace if Niko did.”

Her expression didn’t change. “You want me to ask him.”

Even didn’t answer. It was the only way he could see this not ending in more blood, and he couldn’t lose anyone else; Adam, Mutta, Mikahail. Isak. “Yakuza are too proud and scared to back down. But if you secured a peace, they’d respect it." He stopped himself from adding: "Please, Sana."

Even waited at the boundary. He wanted to come further, but there was no point putting him in more danger. 

The street was narrow, with tall apartment buildings on each side, painted black in the twilight. The sky behind was still pale, and white washing hung between the windows above. There were a couple of kids in one of the apartments, she could hear them over the chatter of a television channel. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d expect a bar, but Yakuza didn’t have to worry about getting business.

Even was surprised she knew where the Magnussons hid out, but he was like the other boys, oblivious that girls talk to each other. She held on to the hope that Noora might be there. Sana didn’t know her well, but she had good instincts, and she’d decided a while ago that she didn’t give a fuck about gang loyalty. That was Elias’ dumb prerogative.

It was hard, walking the narrow ledge that wasn’t now a chasm. Elias took up too much. Her brother.

One foot in front of the other. She wouldn’t let him, or any of these fuckers, break her.

The bar was shut and the awning pulled in. The chairs were still down in front of the bar, glasses and bottles stood around, but the lights were off and the glass was traced with reflections of the street. The door to the side was red, and she knocked before she had a chance to hesitate.

She was doing this. For Elias, if needs be. Or for herself, so she didn’t have anyone else to grieve in the morning.

A boy with floppy brown hair opened the door enough to fit his body around, and leaned against the frame.

“Can you let me in?”

“Who are you here to see?” he asked.

“Niko. I’m Sana Bakkoush”.

The boy nodded and stepped back in the doorway with an air of chivalry that made Sana want to spit.

The apartment was at the top of a steep and narrow flight of stairs. The light had a dark greenish quality, and it smelled like cigarettes and must.

“Niko. Someone here to see you.”

The boy led the way down a short corridor and into a large room, where about seven boys were sat on chairs or mattresses on the floor, duvets kicked into the corners. The window was open and someone was smoking.

Every face turned to watch her enter in front of the boy, but she forced herself to step forwards into the middle of the room. Her heart beat a warning.

Niko was in a wooden chair at the table, which he tipped back. There was a gun resting in front of him, and an ashtray.

“Chris, who the fuck is this?”

“Says her name’s Bakkoush.”

If she was going to get murdered, she hoped they’d make it quick. “I’m his sister.”

Niko, glanced at her, but addressed Chris. “And what does she want?”

“I want a peace deal. Between you and Riot Club.”

He barely suppressed a smirk. Someone opposite offered him a cigarette. “You do? Or they do?”

“Both.” Sana watched him dig in his pocket for a lighter and snap it for a flame. “We don’t want to lose anyone else. I’d bet you don’t either.”

“Do you gamble?” Niko asked.

Sana swallowed. “No.”

“If you did, who’d you bet on? Us or them?” He blew smoke out into the room, and Sana wished the light was brighter. "Because we have more. We have a leader, unlike Yakuza.”

There was some stirring and looks between the boys, and Sana steeled herself. “They have guns just like you do.”

“Do they? I don’t think they do. I think they’re going to be wandering around, later tonight, with little pen-knives.”

“How do you know that?”

“Isak told us. The little blonde one. You know him?” Something in the room shifted, and Sana cast her eyes around. She didn’t recognise many of the boys, but their attentions all converged at the point where she stood, like a circle around her.

“No” said Sana.

“No? He betrayed us. We’ve known for a while what he’s been doing.”

There was something cold, seeping into her thoughts. “Where is he?”

Niko looked at the smirking table around him. “You can’t really let someone leave when they know too much. I’m sure your brother would understand”. He stubbed out his cigarette.

“You killed him.”

He stood up. He was slim, fair. “You want to see?”

Sana took a step back, into the guy, Chris, who put a hand on her shoulder. She pushed it away, panic rising in her like she needed to throw it up.

“Don’t touch me.”

Niko walked towards her, like he was daring her to take another step back. The floorboards clicked under his weight.

“This isn’t a place for people like you” he said. His blue eyes belied his show of concern. “I think you should leave”.

“I hope they kill you” said Sana. She was like a chemical, burning only for a few moments. “I hope you all kill each other.”

Even dropped down from the wall as soon as she was in sight, and stood still, watching her come closer. His hope died as she crossed the street and he turned towards the wall, hands on his head.

“Fuck” He turned around and looked at Sana. He looked so tired, like it was an effort to lift his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“What’s wrong? What did they say?”

Sana shook her head and walked past him. He could see the tear tracks, maybe. “Did they do something?”

“No, Even. Stop.”

She wanted to go home. She wanted to see Yousef. She wanted to sleep some more, curl up in her bed and cry some more. It had felt better, to let some of it out. She wished there was somewhere she could be loud, scream out her hatred until it was gone, get under her bed and kick.

Even looked like he loved that boy. She knew him. She’d known him since they were kids, and sometimes he worried about him, how he withdrew from conversations or for days at a time. None of the boys noticed, but they were dumb. They were blinded by their respect for him and the importance of their own performance. Sana wasn’t supposed to see him with Isak, no one was. They looked like lovers.

Boys were so stupid. They thought they were the only people who died when they got killed.

“You’re getting out of here, right?”

Even’s voice was low. “Yeah. Tonight”.

“Me and Yousef are going to his parents. You should come.”

Even didn’t answer for a moment. He had his hands deep in his denim jacket. “Maybe. But I have to wait for Isak.”

It was hopeless. It was so cruel. God- She couldn’t think about God. “You shouldn’t. He might be with them.“

“I’m not leaving without him.”

Even wasn’t stupid. She could feel his eyes on her. The pavement was littered with burnt out cigarettes and it was dry, last night’s rain had disappeared in the earlier sun. It would be night again soon, and she had to tell him.

“You can’t trust him. You can’t risk your safety in staying here for him.” She tried to sound assertive, like her mother used to, to make Elias listen. Sana wished she had that power.

Even was stubborn, though. He was stupid, and good. Sana was frustrated more than anything, but for some reason her eyes filled with tears. She looked up, and willed them to go, but he saw. Of course he did.

His pale eyebrows pinched into a frown. “What?”

It wasn’t fucking fair. Why did she have to do it? She didn’t want to leave her room today.

They were across the road from the apartment. It was the last of the day's light, and the red bricks looked brown. Her room was only a few floors up, but Even stopped her, a hand on her arm. “Sana. Tell me.”

Sana shook her head. She couldn’t look at him.

“Please Sana. I trust you.”

Her voice came out strangled. “I don’t think it’s true.”

His grip tightened. “What isn’t?”

Sana was a poor liar, especially to him. “He said- he killed him”.

“Who?”

She knew the feeling, when everything folds under your feet but nothing happens. When a normal day in your life becomes incomprehensible.

“Niko. I think he knew about you two. And he said he killed him.”

_It’s not my fucking fault. It’s yours, all of you. Your hate that now you’ve given to me._

Even dropped her arm, and he let out a barely audible “Oh”.

For a moment, you don’t even know who they are.

“Even. Look at me. He could have been lying, trying to scare me. Some of the guys-”

Even wouldn’t look at her. He looked like porcelain. Why couldn’t he just be fine? He hadn’t lost what she had lost. He had the boys. People died, and pain didn’t bring them back.

“He said he’d come back, so I’m going to wait for him.” Sana didn’t like it. She wanted him to stay with her, but even if he agreed, she didn’t think she could bear it.

“Come and find me later, when you’re leaving” he said. It wouldn’t be long. Still, Sana’s heart was pounding as she watched him climb the stairs.

It wasn’t getting darker, Even didn’t think, but the cars in the city kept moving, little bright lights running in lines. There were no stars in the sky. Time wasn’t moving, even as midnight crept closer.

Both gangs were ready to attack, and Even didn’t care. He tried, but he couldn’t.

Isak was down there somewhere. He was probably cold, it was cold tonight.

Even needed to see him right now. He needed him to come up those steps and into his arms. He imagined it every moment, and every moment he didn’t come.

He was alone. The wall under him stung, and the pain was a sharp constant. He just had to wait.

Sana said they were lying. They were. They wouldn’t- not him.

Underneath him the street was shrunken and uncanny, lit unevenly by yellow streetlights. If he jumped, it would take a long time to hit the ground, but falling would be so easy: one push. Quicker than the fire escape.

It would hurt, of course. He’d break every bone in his body and bleed out on the pavement. He’d rather someone held him, hold someone, whole and warm. Isak.

He had to find him. He stood up, and stepped quickly back from the edge, like he was afraid. He couldn’t stay here, not alone. He had to find him.

It was too cold for his jacket to keep him warm. The blue glow on the horizon disappeared behind apartment buildings, that rose up like square palaces, with lace curtains framing golden windows. The fire escapes glinted red.

“Niko!”

He was on their territory, and they could kill him if they wanted to.

“Niko!” He imagined it echoed off the sky. He didn’t run, because he didn’t want to get there. Isak was dead, lying somewhere, cold and lifeless. The idea of Isak cold was so wrong. He was warm. He gave off so much warmth Even had to kick off the covers the night they slept together. He was warm, even in the freezing cold cell his hand was warm.

“What are you doing?” Something hit him full force in the chest. “What are you doing, Even? What the fuck? We have to get out.”

Even couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breath. He could only kiss Isak’s head and hair. He was alive. He was frantic and warm and alive.

“I didn’t know what to do. I got away, but I-. He’s got a gun. Even. You have to go.”

“I thought you were dead.”

Isak pulled him by his hand, and a shot rang out. It hit a building, and a window above slid shut.

They had to get down. They had to get to the turning. There wasn’t time.

Another shot rang out, and fear ripped through him. It was an animal fear, of something that could tear straight through either of them in an instant.

“Isak.”

They fell behind a car. It was wide and low, and the bumper must have hit him, because the pain was searing.

It was too late. Niko would catch up. It was over.

Another bang. The bullet clattered to the ground. Someone shouted.

There was a pain deep in the top right side of Even’s chest, and a warm wetness that stuck his shirt to his skin. It looked black in the dark.

“You have to go.” He thought maybe Isak hadn’t noticed, but he didn’t get up to run. “Isak-”

Isak slumped closer, like it was him that was hurt.

“Fuck. Fuck.” His voice broke on the second. He pushed on Even’s chest with unsteady hands. The pain had Even gasping for breath.

“You have to keep pressure on it.”

“Isak, please go.”

Isak shook his head. “Lean back. It hasn’t gone through”. He turned and shouted, and it frightened Even. “I need help!”

Even had a hole in his chest. People die when that happens. In a play, this is where he’d die. It never took this long though. Isak kept shouting, and no one came. There were no more shots. Maybe Niko was just watching them.

Even hated him. He wanted to live, but instead he was going to die full of hatred for the man that killed him, while Isak was knelt in front of him.

_I don’t even know you. God, I don’t even know you, and you’re crying for me._

The stars hated them, this whole universe did. It only let them have this.

_I wanted more._

_”_We can’t die, remember?” Isak sounded like he was pleading, and Even hated Niko, because dying meant losing him. It meant losing his chance to love and be loved. Because as much as people try to convince themselves that love can transcend death, it can’t. To love, you have to know them, see them. There is no seeing in death.

But he still loved Elias, so maybe that was bullshit. He saw him all the time. All the fucking time. He still loved his mum, and his dad. He saw them, in his dreams, waving from a hilltop.

He loved Isak.

“Even, don’t close your eyes. Hey. I mean it.” Even tried. He really did. “We’re fine. Riot club are here. Niko gave the gun to Chris.” His hands felt good, grounding. He'd be a good doctor. Even was lucky.

_Please get out of here. Please don't stay in this city._

“Jonas! Get an ambulance.”

There were more trainers, and voices, higher up. He recognised Chris’ voice. The world was drifting further away.

“Even. Please.”

He saw them, and he loved them, waving from a hilltop.

Even woke up to white lights and white sheets. After a few attempts at keeping his eyes open, he gave up. A woman was speaking.

“There’s lots of them, and they said they’re not moving. They’re waiting for the patient with a gun shot wound. No, not for a few weeks. A few of them have been here for days. I think I’m going to have to call the police. One of the doctors said it’s gangs. I know. They seem rather peaceful though. Yes. I will. Hold on, I have to go. I think he’s waking up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of violence, grief, water torture, suicidal ideation, gun violence, near major character death. If in doubt you should probably read something else <3
> 
> ummm yeah I told you it was a lot. This story was hard but I'm glad I attempted it. We know Even Bech Naesheim is a hoe for melodrama, so I imagine if this was a film he'd love it while Isak would say it was dumb as hell but secretly need a cuddle after.
> 
> anywayy, please leave me a comment if you got to the end. <3<3


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